Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Merely a timely reminder to new readers that I have many categories on the left-hand side of my blog, including an index of hereditary peers in Northern Ireland; baronetcies, both extant and extinct; major country houses, listed in a county basis, including lineages for their owners.

Most of my country house articles pertain to my native Northern Ireland; though I am currently adding many from the Republic of Ireland's counties.

I also have current lists of Lord-Lieutenants and Deputy Lieutenants in Northern Ireland; Honorary Burgesses of the City of Belfast; Illustrious Families and their lineages; and selective Belfast buildings and heritage, including Belfast castles.

I have read that there is to be a public consultation on the future network infrastructure and development of railways in Northern Ireland.

I am generally enthusiastic and in favour of the re-establishment of former railway lines, where the track-bed remains.

I believe that, in 2008, an independent proposal was suggested to Translink for a £460 million expansion of the network called Northern Ireland Network Enhancement
(NINE).

This proposed the re-introduction of the network to several towns that
have not had access to rail services for many years.

The main part of
the proposal was that the Londonderry-Portadown line be re-opened, which
would link Omagh, Strabane and Dungannon with branches to Enniskillen and Armagh.

In addition, this plan would see the re-introduction of services into the centre of Newry through a short spur from Goraghwood; and the introduction of the long-proposed rail link to Belfast International Airport via the Lisburn-Antrim line.

It is a pity that the Belfast-Newcastle line cannot, presumably, be re-instated. Do any readers know how much, or to what extent, the track-bed remains on this line?

Sunday, 24 February 2013

Yesterday proved to be an eventful day for Timothy Belmont. I decided to take the bus to El Cotillo, a fishing village round the coast from Corralejo.

I have a plastic bus card for this service, so I duly boarded at Corralejo for the ten o'clock service.

It's not possible, in my experience, to know exactly what the balance is on the island's bus cards, since there is no paper ticket issued.

I arrived at El Cotillo at about ten-forty and walked in a northerly direction towards the lovely little beach, where there is a beach-bar called La Concha.

As I unpacked my towel, pillow and sun-cream from the bag, it suddenly dawned on me that I'd forgotten to bring my little wallet, which contained my cash, key, EU health card and other bits & pieces.

This made me wonder ~ and hope ~ that I had an adequate balance on the bus-card to get me home.

IT SUBSEQUENTLY became very windy, so I packed up and left the beach in order to get the three o'clock bus back.

When I placed the card on the reader beside the driver, he pressed a few buttons and exclaimed " One euro". I had dreaded this moment. I tried to explain that I had no money, to no avail. The driver was adamant.

He got off the bus for a smoke, where I asked him what direction to take in order to walk back: "Walk? You go by the beach; it is fifteen kilometres".

I desperately asked a few passengers if they had a euro, a waste of time and effort.

I proceeded to walk, wearing my flip-flops, as best I could along the rugged coast. I trekked for miles, one hour and forty minutes. There was a rough track, no tarmacked road.

Eventually, a car approached me and a middle-aged couple slowed to speak. They were my saviours. I told them my story. It transpired that they were from Norway, staying very near me in Corralejo, close to the harbour.

"What a coincidence!" I exclaimed.

The distance back was certainly further than I'd imagined, and I intimated that I was very glad and grateful for their lift back.

The first thing I did, when I retrieved my money from my room, was to buy a box of chocolates (Cadbury, of course, given my nationality) for them. I immediately conveyed the choccies to their apartment and, again, expressed my appreciation.

So there you have it, dear readers: Never forget your wallet or purse. Or else.

Thursday, 21 February 2013

I spent an idle day at the beach today, a very long stretch of sand running from the outskirts of Corralejo in a southerly direction.

Despite the forecast anticipating cloud, it was mostly sunny.

This evening I had a fruit salad at the apartment, comprising strawberry, banana, apple, pineapple, Greek yoghurt and condensed cream. I do declare that it was truly delicious.

I've strolled to a pleasant cocktail bar at the seafront called, rather appropriately, On The Beach. I checked that they had wi-fi; and accordingly installed myself on a large, cream leather banquette, where tonight's restorative of choice is Bacardi & Coke.

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

I have spent the day at base camp, Belmont GHQ Canary Islands. There have been sunny intervals; it has been warm enough when the sun shows its face.

It was here that I ate this evening: A very large, home-made beef burger, Hawaiian style, with pineapple slice, finely chopped onion and seafood sauce.

Curiously, the beef was a bright red. I noticed this at the supermarket, thinking it would brown when cooked; though, despite a good ten minutes at a high temperature, it remained reddish (although the exterior was browned).

Nevertheless, it proved to be a truly meaty specimen of its kind.

TONIGHT I'm seated outside the Kactus cafe bar, sipping a lovely Bacardi and Coke. The ice-cubes are almost the size of squash balls.

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

I revisited The Temple restaurant last night. I fancied one of their sumptuous puddings, so I opted for a starter in lieu of a main course.

I had cod fish cakes. These were good; in between the size of a tennis-ball and a golf-ball; lightly-battered; served with an aesthetically-pleasing little salad and a ramekin of tartare sauce.

To accompany these, I had cheesy garlic bread.

For pudding, I had The Temple's signature home-made cheesecake with Bailey's liberally doused thereon. This is real cheese-cake, to my mind; and it's about three inches in thickness, at least.

Including a cola, the meal set me back about €13.

John was running the restaurant himself last night. His chef and a sous-chef were in the kitchen.

I overheard a party of four ~ two couples ~ chatting about this and that. One couple was English; the other sounded Scandinavian to me.

The English fellow, a middle-aged man, was telling his counterpart about a convertible "Roller" at home in England, which he drove occasionally during the summer months. I wondered if it was a vintage Corniche Convertible.

What ever has our most beautiful and serene Duchess of Cambridge done to incur the venomous tongue of the prize-winning author, Mrs Hilary Mantel CBE ~ who, incidentally, is a Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire?

I hesitate to remind Mrs Mantel that Her Royal Highness represents everything that she can and never will be. I am confident that Hilary would beat HRH with ease in the race to the food-trough.

Monday, 18 February 2013

Yesterday was an alcohol-free day at the Belmont Household in Fuerteventura, Canary Islands. I spent several hours at the grand beach, which stretches for miles.

In the evening, I visited my Canarian friends at the Kactus Cafe, a tapas lounge bar, where I sat on an armchair at the pavement, perused the menu, ordered a Kactus Cocktail (all freshly-blended fruit, including strawberries, orange, pineapple).

Later I enjoyed some tapas: Tortilla with chorizo; and albondigas (meat balls) with black olives.

Sunday, 17 February 2013

I spent a beautiful day at the little fishing village of El Cotillo yesterday. I walk briskly in a northerly direction, towards the old lighthouse, and install myself on the beach, where all that can be heard is the lashing of white waves and human chitter-chatter.

After lunch, I ambled up to the beach bar formerly called Torino's, though now La Concha. It was quiet and I ordered a Bacardi rum and cola.

I'm wondering if I'd have the will-power to "do a Peter Oborne"? Namely, to abstain from alcohol for an indefinite period.

I dislike the after-effects of drinking too much: The Hangover. I find it hard to stop drinking after, say, two drinks; and the measures are, shall we say, more generous here than at home in the UK.

None of my close pals have ever told me that I drink too much. When my parents were alive, we tended to adhere to two whiskies or gins on Friday and Saturday nights. This worked well. My father was really quite abstemious, in retrospect. Perhaps his army days taught him this.

LAST NIGHT I dined at The Temple restaurant, owned by my friends John and Sharon. I had his signature cod and chips, which was as splendid as ever. I think it cost about €10.

When I arrived, I sat up at the bar, where John poured me a large Gordon's gin, on the house.

We had a chin-wag about this and that. I asked him if he had horse-meat on the menu (!).

John told me that this is customarily a quiet month in the resort.

I imagine that many businesses must merely survive by cutting back on staff and cost-cutting perhaps in whatever way they can.

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Terminal Two is a fair hop, skip and jump from its counterpart, Terminal One, where I alighted.

I have acquired a beaker of tea at the Oak Cafe Bar, where I am seated.

Packed in the luggage is a round of smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches; a little helping of fresh fruit; and some fruit juice. I'll consume the juice and fruit before departure; and retain the sandwiches for the flight.

Saturday, 9 February 2013

Despite the inclement conditions, two dozen of us assembled at the National Trust's wonderful Minnowburn property this morning.

There were young people with us, several of whom were hoping to achieve their Duke of Edinburgh awards.

The purpose today was to clear an area of ground in the middle of the woods, for future use as an educational and adventure point.

Phil and self sawed large logs for use as seating; while Anna provided us all with a practical and instructive lesson on how best to light a Kelly kettle, using a magnesium flint fire striker, cotton wool, wood shavings and kindling.

Afterwards, we re-assembled at the car-park, where some of us took advantage of the quirky mobile diner a la français: A fifty-year-old Citron van converted for use as a mobile food service.

Later, a few of us returned to the Warden's office, where we chatted and had coffee.

Thursday, 7 February 2013

The Daily Telegraph's Victoria Ward apprises us that the actor and comedian, Rowan Atkinson, presented his insurance company with a £910,000 repair bill after
crashing his beloved McLaren F1 supercar, it has emerged.

He span off the road and crashed the high-powered vehicle into a tree in August, 2011, suffering a fractured shoulder blade in the process.

Technicians spent four weeks analysing the damage in a bid to determine how much it would cost to repair.

Atkinson’s insurance provider was then left to decide whether to repair the car or to replace it, eventually realising that it would be cheaper to repair.

The car then spent more than a year in the hands of McLaren's expert technicians in Woking, Surrey.

The avid car enthusiast bought the 240mph vehicle for £640,000 in 1997 with the proceeds from his first Mr Bean film. But its value has significantly increased over the last 15 years - with one sold last year for £3.5 million.

After getting back behind the wheel 16 months after the crash, Atkinson said it was “like putting on a familiar sweater”.

He told this month's Classic and Sports Car magazine that he was not a fan of hiding cars away like toys and insisted they should be used:

"I'm not a collector. I don't like the toy cupboard syndrome that causes so many good cars to evaporate. It depresses me that they are hidden away like investment art, or gold ingots in a Swiss vault. The McLaren is just so usable, it is a crime not to use it. No gritted teeth, you just get in and drive."

Atkinson crashed the car on the A605 near Haddon, Cambridgeshire, not far from his Northamptonshire home. No other vehicles were involved.

Its 6.1-litre BMW engine can take the car from 0-60mph in 3.2 seconds.

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

THE QUEEN has been pleased to approve the appointment of the Most
Rev and Rt Hon Justin Welby to Her Majesty’s Most
Honourable Privy Council, following his appointment as the Lord
Archbishop of Canterbury.

I HAVE been following Peter Oborne's progress re alcohol abstention throughout the month of January. I think he has done well, apart from a few lapses.

I exhort all those who, like myself, enjoy a drink or two, to read his piece this morning; and please do send your comments.

ONE PROGRAMME I shan't miss this evening will be broadcast on Channel 4 at 9pm. When a skeleton was reported found under a Leicester council car park
in September 2012, the news broke around the world. Could it be the
remains, lost for 500 years, of England's most infamous king?

In a world exclusive, Channel 4 has the full inside story of the hunt for RICHARD III (1452-85).

The
discovery of the body and the battery of scientific tests to establish
its identity have been carried out in complete secrecy, with no footage
of them seen by anyone but the investigating team.

But this programme - made by the only team allowed to follow the scientists - tells every step, twist and turn of the story.

It
unveils a brand new facial reconstruction made from the skull and - in
scenes shot just hours before broadcast - reveals the results of the
final tests that confirm or deny the body's identity.

I attended the annual old Brackenbrian dinner last night, at the Ulster Reform Club, Royal Avenue, Belfast.

This yearly reunion is delightful. Old Brackenbrians are naturally diminishing in number, given that the school closed more than two decades ago.

It is wonderful to meet fellow Brackenbrians again; to recall fondly old school masters and mistresses, such as John Craig, Zoe Rankin, Harvey Cross, Bunny English, Mrs Horne, Dorothy Dunlop, and Messrs Maguire, Magowan and Sheehan, to name a few.

It was good to see Johnny Knox at the dinner this year. He taught - correction, tried - to teach me French at Campbell. Actually, French was one of my better subjects.

Many old boys recognise me now as Lord Belmont, my alter ego (!). I take this in good spirit.

I TOOK a cab into town. At the club, I strode up the wide, carpeted staircase to the lounge bar, where a complimentary glass of wine awaited me. Gordon Harvey greeted me and ticked me off his list.

We all assembled here, fifty-four of us on this occasion, prior to wandering into the large dining-room, which overlooks Royal Avenue. It has a gallery, which doesn't seem to be used.

This room, like the club itself, is Victorian in character, with wooden panelling, lofty ceiling, columns and fine paintings.

I was told about a particularly large painting by an artist whose name escapes me; though I was apprised of its considerable value.

THE SPEAKER at our dinner was a celebrated Old Brackenbrian himself, Paul, now the Lord Bew, who treated us to a witty speech reminiscing, in particular, about the great John Craig, Brackenber's headmaster. I was introduced to him after dinner.

The meal, as you'd expect, was of a very good standard, the main course consisting of roast sirloin of beef and Yorkshire pudding. I shall post the full menu this afternoon.

I WISH to express my cordial compliments and gratitude to Gordon Harvey, who organised the event; and the Ulster Reform Club, for such a memorable and successful evening.

Friday, 1 February 2013

Timothy Belmont undertook a brief sortie into town this afternoon, the first port of call being the Linenhall Library, where I managed to obtain some interesting information relating to the Templers, formerly of Loughgall, County Armagh; the most illustrious son of whom was Field Marshal Sir Gerald Templer.

Founded in 2007 by Timothy William Ferres: writing about a variety of topics including the Monarchy, the Nobility, the Gentry, Heraldry, Pageantry, History of the British Isles, Heritage, Country Houses, the National Trust, Conservation, Brackenber House School, Food, Drink, Sir P G Wodehouse, Travel.